


All The Riches One Man Can Claim

by leiascully



Category: The Emperor's New Groove
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true story of the Kingdom of The Sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Riches One Man Can Claim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doinkies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doinkies/gifts).



Listen: this is how it happened, back when the sun shone down to glorify the emperor. The gods were near to us then. They made the emperor their agent and he spoke to them on our behalf. But the emperor then was a spoiled boy. He grew tired of doing the gods' work. The golden crown was heavy; the feather cloak itched. He yearned for a change. The most powerful man did not have the power to change his situation, until the day that new things began to happen. I will tell you the story the way it was told to me by the old story keeper, who was told by his master, whose grandfather's grandfather's grandfather saw the way it was in the old days.

The emperor, who was called Manco, was restless. All his life he had ruled his people; even before he could speak, his every whim had been obeyed. His father had died young, pining for his legitimate wife, the emperor's mother, who had suffered a wasting disease. Manco had taken the mantle at the age of twelve, and he ruled well, though he suffered from pride and a touch of greed. His advisors had raised him to know his word was law, and Yzma especially had been close to him, guiding his hand. She had been his father's advisor as well. She was old, very old. Manco thought that no one could remember her days as a Virgin of the Sun. She seemed to have been born ancient. She had a sharp and poisonous tongue and there were days he longed to dismiss her, but she was as close to him as family, or at least as an aging aunt. She frightened the people and he liked that: that meant that they saw him as the kind one.

Manco was the sun of his people and they adored him and lavished him with gifts and praise. If he was proud, he was justly proud, for their empire was the light of the world. If he was greedy, they were glad to bring him gifts. But he was caged up in his palace like the many birds he kept in his gilded menagerie. Everything was brought to him, but he had never been out. Now he was twenty, and betrothed to Nina, the loveliest maiden of his people. Her beauty was unutterable, but it made him restless: as soon as they were married, he would be well and truly tied to the palace and the throne, with no chance at any other experience.

"I govern all of the four quarters," he muttered to himself as he held audience. "All of Ttahua-ntin suyu is mine to rule, and yet the least of the peasants in my realm has ventured further than I, just to air their petty grievance before me."

Yzma was close by his throne and heard his complaint. "You have traveled far," she said to the next group, her voice raised so that the emperor would be certain to hear. "And you have seen much. Tell us, what news of the realm?"

But the peasants could say little, other than that the road had been long, although well-kept, they added hastily. They had come to tell the emperor of the encroachment of their curaca on their lands, certain that the emperor's grace and mercy would bring them justice. They pleaded for his aid, their eyes on his feet.

But Manco was displeased by their ignorance, their inability to show him his lands with their words. Yzma's whispers at his elbow did nothing to improve his temper. He barely listened to the peasants' complaints, twitching at his heavy robes to resettle them, bored by the whining of his subjects. Day after day they poured into the palace, marring his floors with their muddy feet, laying their petty unhappinesses at his feet, praying for his intercession. He could not even distinguish their faces from each other: all of his peasants seemed the same, with their neverending, unvarying pleas. The problems of this group were little different from the problems of those who would come before or after them.

"Then take new lands," he interrupted them. "Expand our territory and increase our glory."

"But my lord," began the leader of the peasants.

"We do not wish to tire our ears further listening to you," Manco said, flourishing his hand at them. "Our decision has been made."

"We are not soldiers," the peasant tried again. "We are farmers and herders only. We seek aid, not war."

"You dare come before us without tribute and weary us with your complaints?" Manco growled. "Be gone from our court."

"I am sorry, my lord," the peasant said, bending his head. "I hear and obey."

"Slowly," Manco said under his breath.

"Shall I have him seen to by the guards, my lord?" Yzma asked. "Insolence must be dealt with."

"No, let them go," Manco said. "For now."

The next few petitions passed without event; though the groups were equally dull, at least they had brought gifts. Manco waved one lazy hand and had their tribute taken to the store rooms. He pretended to heed their concerns and passed judgment adequate to their deference. He covered a yawn.

"Send in the next crying child," Manco said to Yzma, who raised her voice and commanded the guards to see to the next petitioner.

It was a single man this time, very grubby, wearing a herder's poncho. His hair was long and unkempt, but he knelt with grace and dared to look up into Manco's face, taking off the hat the had shadowed his face as he looked into Manco's eyes. Manco sat up straight. Underneath the dirt, the man's face was familiar: it was as his own. Manco glanced around, but the guards had not seemed to notice. Even Yzma was looking away, tending to her fingernails as one of the servants spoke to her.

"What news of the realm?" Manco asked.

"My lord, I am but a traveling herder," the man said, his voice an echo of Manco's own. "I came to glimpse your glory. I have nothing to trade for your grace but my tales."

"Take him to my rooms," Manco commanded the guards. "I will meet with this commoner there."

"My lord?" Yzma said, indicating the queue of petitioners.

"Deal with them," Manco said to her, dismissing his guards, slipping off the throne and down the hall. His thoughts kept pace with his rushing feet. How was it that there was a peasant who resembled him so strongly? And a peasant with news of his realm! A peasant who could tell him about the world outside the palace! He paused outside his chambers. Perhaps a peasant who could show him the world, indirectly: he could disguise himself as the peasant, and tour his realm himself. A llama herder could go anywhere without fear, his only care for his flock, and they never complained. Manco smiled to himself. Yes, a llama herder would do well to serve his emperor. Any of his subjects would gladly give their life for their lord. Well, this one would give his life _to_ his lord for a little while, and be glad of the chance.

Manco swept into the room where the llama herder sat on a stool. He prostrated himself at Manco's entrance.

"Get up," Manco said impatiently. "There will be none of that between us. Tell me your name."

"Pacha, my lord," said the llama herder, getting slowly to his feet as Manco grasped his hand. "I am called Pacha. Please, I only wanted to see your face."

"You have seen it before," Manco said. "It is your face."

"My lord?"

"You and I, Pacha, we are two of the same," Manco wheedled. "Can you not see we are as brothers?" He led Pacha to a disc of obsidian polished to a mirror shine. "Look." Their two faces were reflected in the surface, as like as two pieces of gold. They had the same bark-brown skin, the same strong nose, the same arched eyebrows and dark eyes. It was easy to see that with a little grooming, no one would be able to tell Pacha from his emperor.

"The gods have blessed me," Pacha breathed.

"Your emperor needs to see his lands," Manco said. "Here I only hear about their problems. I cannot see the good things in their lives. All my life, I have been in this palace. Here all is well, but I do not know how my subjects truly live. I have never breathed in the air of the mountains or taken a simple meal surrounded by my herd. With your help, I will walk among my people."

"My help, my lord?" Pacha asked.

"You shall be me," Manco said. "I will take your clothes and smudge my face and tend your llamas. You will cut your hair and perfume yourself and wear my robes. You will rule in my stead for a little while - Yzma and the others will guide you, as they have me. They will not know. And I will have the chance to understand my people better."

"I am at your command, my lord," Pacha said.

"The first thing you will have to do is command others," Manco said. "You are the emperor. You are the god of your people. Others follow your commands. You may be gracious enough to take advice, but you do not take orders. Stand up straight. Act as if all others are almost beneath your notice."

"But, my lord..."

"If they find you, they will kill you," Manco said firmly. "No gods would save you. But I will. This is a chance you cannot pass up."

"I see," Pacha said, straightening up. For a moment he looked lordly despite the dirt on his face and the tangles in his hair. "I accept, my lord."

"Good," Manco said. "Come along. I will show you where you can bathe."

On the other side of the wall, Yzma took her eye away from the spyhole. So the emperor had found himself a pawn, not knowing he was himself a piece in her game. That was good news and bad news: this new player, the peasant, would be putty in her hands, but she had spent years planning for this and guiding Manco, and the gods would be angered by the deception. No worry. Soon enough the gods would be angered anyway. She moved silently through the secret passages of the palace, back to the throne room. She was already plotting the perfect solution: transform the ersatz llama herder into one of his own flock. Manco had the manners of a llama to begin with, compared to how a true emperor should act, with all of his shifting and muttering and his desire to walk on the grass rather than the stone floors of the palace. It was a fate that suited him perfectly. She chuckled softly to herself. Soon the sun would rise for her, and then never rise again.

\+ + + +

It really was a simple matter to transform llama herder to haughty emperor and emperor to humble llama herder. Pacha had bathed and combed out his hair and trimmed the raggedy ends smooth under Manco's tutelage. He didn't even flinch when Manco found a needle and pierced his ears so that Pacha could wear the heavy gold earrings. He put on Manco's clothing without complaint, which Manco felt was slightly distasteful: his clothes were made fresh each day, and he never wore the same robe twice. But he would have to now. Pacha listened like a child as Manco warned him about the arrival and dismissal of servants and described the court rituals to Pacha, detailing the peculiarities of each advisor.

"And there is Nina, of course," Manco said offhand. "My betrothed."

Pacha looked at him, startled eyes wide as he attempted to line his eyes with charcoal. "Your betrothed?"

"You will know her," Manco assured him. "She is radiant. The gods themselves blessed her. It as if the stars glow in her eyes. It's a pity I don't care much for her."

"But my lord, you are marrying her. You must love her." Pacha shrugged into Manco's clothing. The royal robes fit him perfectly, and he stood straight and proud under their weight.

"Not particularly," Manco said. "And none of that 'my lord'. I am your humble servant, as you may see." A few smears of the charcoal he used on his eyes, and his face looked as grubby as any peasant's. He pulled on Pacha's loose tunic and breech cloth and poncho and practiced hunching his shoulders.

"Perfect," Pacha approved, barely remembering to drop the "my lord". "You look just like any herdsman in the mountains."

"Thank you," Manco said. "When we leave this room, you must announce that you have spoken to me and found the condition of the empire's affairs satisfactory, and that you hope I will return to update you on further events."

"I will," Pacha said. He raised his chin and looked down his nose at Manco. "How's this?"

"Perfect, my lord," Manco said, winking. "Now let us go."

It was ridiculously easy for Manco to slip out of the palace dressed in Pacha's clothes. He stood with his head ducked next to his own throne as Pacha proclaimed the value of this llama tender's humble knowledge and gave him free reign to wander through the empire. Nobody even looked at him twice. The keeper at the gate sneered as he paid to have his llamas held for another few days - he wanted to explore his city. It was difficult not to snap at the stupid man - he would never speak that way to his emperor, son of the gods - but Manco held his tongue, pretending to be struck dumb with awe at the bustle of the city.

He visited many lodging houses over the next few days and tried more variations on potatoes and maize than he had known existed. He tried cuy and liked it. Some of it was better than the food he had at the palace. He drank chicha until his belly was taut and the world glowed around him. He spoke to his people. Some of them shrugged him off, but some of them talked back. He learned new songs and new jokes and gloried in his escape.

In the fourth or fifth lodging house of the last day he planned to be in the city - he'd lost track along the way - the chicha tasted odd. He drank more, trying to wash the strange taste out of his mouth, but not even the aji amarillo on his food could cleanse his palate. He stumbled out into the dark street, barely aware that someone had followed him out. His neck hurt and his hands felt strange. He couldn't unbend his fingers from clenched fists. His spine twisted.

A hand grabbed his ear, which seemed longer and hairier. "You should have listened to me," a familiar voice hissed.

"Yzma!" Manco tried to say, but it came out as a bray.

"Your substitute will be an easy man to sway," she said. "And you, my fine friend, will be lucky not to end up in somebody's pot - you'll be as poor a llama as you were an emperor, I imagine."

Manco's hands hit the ground, but it didn't hurt, aside from the jolt up his legs. He danced on his hooves, distracted by the clatter. Yzma slapped his rump and he bolted up the street, terrified, confused by the sights and sounds and smells of the city. He ran until his legs ached and his lungs burned, and then he smelled other llamas. He followed the scent, his head down almost between his knees, until the keeper of the livestock yard came out and caught him, putting him in with the rest of Pacha's flock. They nosed him all over, sniffing the shreds of Pacha's tunic still caught in his hair. He submitted to it for a while, just standing and shaking, and then sank down to the ground, awkward on four legs. The last thought that crossed his mind before he slept was, _At least I won't have to worry about changing clothes._

\+ + + +

Pacha lounged on a cushion in the courtyard of the palace, drinking cool chicha and sampling a bowl of ceviche. The guards were standing at the doorway, but he'd sent them away for a little while. Life in the palace had been surprisingly easy to become accustomed to. He looked at someone and they instantly fulfilled his every wish. He had more delicacies to choose from than he could ever eat. Yzma had an oily charm that he mistrusted, but she had been gone for much of the day the past few days, and the other advisors seemed to notice no change. Pacha had tried to take Manco's advice and put on an air of haughtiness that encouraged no conversation. It was difficult to harden his heart against the prayers of his fellow peasants, but the idea of answering to Manco when he came back and found his treasury and food stores emptied by Pacha's generosity helped him steel himself. It was easy, after the first few audiences.

And then there was Nina.

Nina was more glorious than Pacha had imagined. Manco had spoken of her so casually that Pacha had thought she must not be so beautiful after all. But he had seen her in a group of Virgins of the Sun, and he had known instantly which one she was. Her grace and her loveliness set her apart even among the most beautiful women of the empire. He had spent most of the last few days in her company, but he wished he could see her again without his advisors and her handmaidens around.

Almost as if his thoughts had conjured her, she appeared, carrying a bowl of fresh fruit.

"Come and sit near me, lovely one," he said. It was difficult to keep up the act around her. She made him feel like a blushing child.

She nodded in deference and knelt to offer him the fruit. He took a piece, searching for something to say to her. He wished that Manco had told him more about how to behave with her, rather than how to call for a new tunic.

"The weather is fine, is it not?" he asked, letting a little of the careful formality slip out of his voice.

"Indeed," Nina said. From a pouch she took out a spindle and a hank of vicuña wool and began to spin it.

"Why do you not call me 'my lord'?" Pacha asked, trying to sound stern but playful.

"You are not my lord," Nina said, her voice certain.

"I am!" Pacha bluffed, but her steady disbelieving gaze deflated him. "How did you know?"

"We have been very close," Nina said, raising one round shoulder, her eyes looking down under her lashes. "But it was simple for anyone to guess. My lord commands the sun to rise. He is a son of Inti and that is his birthright. He expects its perfect obedience and it sets when he allows it to set. You marvel and give thanks each morning. You were not born to the line of kings."

"He asked me to change places with him for a little while," Pacha said. "He wanted to see his empire while he still had the chance."

"And he wanted to escape from his advisors and from me," Nina said, looking at her spinning. "He is not so fond of me, our emperor. But he is not so fond of anyone but himself."

"Surely that isn't true," Pacha said earnestly.

Nina laughed to herself. "It is. But that is the way of life, sometimes. I wonder if he will come back at all."

"He must," Pacha said. "I am only a poor llama herder. I cannot play the emperor forever. His duty is here as mine is to my flock. I hope he is treating them well."

"He could hardly ruin them, could he?" Nina asked.

"Oh, certainly," Pacha assured her. "They are not delicate creatures, but still there is an art to herding them. They can be stubborn, and they can become upset. They can get burrs tangled in their fur, or their hooves can crack, or they can eat weeds that upset their stomachs, and the mothers can become ill and neglect the young ones, or the males can fight. They can be frightened by a storm or slip on a slope or catch cold. Oh yes, tending llamas is much more difficult than some realize, even before the shearing."

"I wonder," said Yzma from much too close, "how the emperor learned so much about an animal that he has never seen in this court alive."

Pacha and Nina both jumped. "How long have you been there?" Pacha demanded.

"Long enough to know that you are a fraud," Yzma said, her ancient face crinkling into a thousand wrinkles as she smiled. It was not a sweet expression.

"What are you going to do?" Nina demanded. "You will not have him executed." She moved in front of Pacha. Pacha's heart leaped briefly and then sank again. He was terrified. First Manco had threatened to kill him, and now Yzma stood there with his life in her hands. He trusted her less than Manco. He had nothing to offer Yzma.

"I propose a deal," Yzma said.

"What kind of a deal?" Nina asked suspiciously.

"The years have taken my beauty, my dear. I'm sure it's a fate you fear as well," Yzma said. "The sun has not been kind. But I believe I have found a way to negotiate with the gods for the return of my youth. I require your help in this endeavor, both to keep the others occupied and because I need certain ingredients for my ritual."

"Ingredients?" Nina asked.

"Three drops of your blood," Yzma said smoothly, "and three of Manco's, which I acquired some time ago. The son of the Sun and a virgin of the Sun - there is a virtue in your blood that will call the gods to my aid. And I will need the young man's help to carry the equipment to the temple, and to lend me his strength."

"How?" Pacha asked. His mouth was dry.

"Your presence will suffice," Yzma said, smiling at him again. "Oh yes, you will do nicely." She turned on her heel and then turned back. "And if you don't, I _will_ have you executed as an imposter, as your lady so kindly suggested, and she'll join you in the afterlife for betraying her lord."

"I loathe her," Nina said thoughtfully as Yzma hobbled away.

"I'm sorry," Pacha said.

"For what?" Nina asked.

"For all of this," Pacha said. "For trying to deceive you. For not being your lord. For not protecting you. For her calling you my lady."

"Oh." Nina waved away his concerns with one pretty hand. "I can defend myself well enough from the likes of her. And for all purposes, I _am_ your lady, and I find that I prefer you to the one you replaced, so that's all one."

"Ah," said Pacha. "Uh. Thank you."

"Don't waste your time working that over in your head," she told him. "I don't trust Yzma. We need to have a plan to foil her plan, if it comes to that. I think we should talk to the story teller. The best one is in my home village. You'll have to tell the court to send a train. We must go."

"I can't leave!" Pacha protested. "What if Manco comes back?"

"It's only been a few days," Nina pointed out. "He was sick and tired of the palace. I'm certain he won't be back for at least a month. Are you scared?"

"Yes," Pacha said.

"So am I," Nina said grimly. "And I'm no llama herder." She took his hand. "Come along, my lord. You'll tell your advisors that I've had a bout of homesickness and demanded that you ask the headman of my village and my father for my hand before our wedding."

"When is the wedding?" Pacha asked.

"Two months' time," Nina said offhand. "When I have finished my training and the stars are aligned correctly and the moment is most auspicious."

"Oh," Pacha said, his heart sinking again. In two months' time he'd surely be gone, and Nina would be marrying a man who did not love her and whom she did not love.

"Cry about it later," Nina advised him. "Now is the time for that golden tongue of yours to go to work pretending to be a sulky emperor."

He was too stunned by the compliment to protest as he followed her back into the palace.

\+ + + +

Manco awoke to the noises of his herd. He struggled to his feet. "I don't know what to do with them," he heard the caretaker say. "He never came back."

"I'll take them off your hands," said another man dressed as a herder.

"I wouldn't think about it, but I don't have the space to keep them here," said the caretaker, scratching his head. "If he hasn't come back by tonight, I'll let you have them in the morning."

"I can stay one more day," said the herder. "Let's just hope the emperor hasn't found a better use for his bones, blessings on him." They both laughed.

Manco snorted with rage. How dare they speak of him that way! He never had anyone killed for fun! He rarely had anyone killed at all! He tried to shout his fury at them, but it only came out in brays. He danced awkwardly from foot to foot, causing the other llamas to shy away from him.

"Whoa there, easy," said the caretaker, coming up to stroke his neck. "Easy. Maybe he'll come back. Our emperor is a good man, really. Every day he brings the sun up so that we can have light, and light grows the grass, and you eat the grass, and you grow the wool so that the emperor can have clothes. He wouldn't hurt your keeper."

Manco quieted under the caretaker's hand. His llama body was soothed, even if his human mind was racing. What had Yzma done? He was a llama! This wasn't supposed to happen! He was going to be gone by now anyway, out of the city, but now he was stuck here and to make things worse, he was a hairy animal and the only way he could express his fury was to spit and bite.

"You're all right, then," the caretaker said encouragingly, and Manco stopped fussing except for stamping his foot once in a while. "Soon you'll be out on the hills where you belong." He pushed Manco gently toward a trough of water. "Have a drink, fellow."

Manco obediently bent his long furry neck toward the trough. At least his body knew what it was doing, when he didn't think about it too much. He paused for a moment, hating the thought of drinking water that was full of llama spit, but it smelled too good, and finally he plunged his muzzle in and tried to drink.

"There. Eat a little and you'll feel better." The caretaker turned to the herder. "I found him on the street last night. No idea where he came from. But he looks like he belongs with this herd, so I'll send him with you. Maybe he'll be happier out of the city."

Manco lipped at the hay. It tasted surprisingly good. No one would come for him, he was sure. Tomorrow he'd be out of the city. And then he could find a way to run away, find someone who would help him. He was the emperor and a son of the Sun. Surely the gods would not forsake him.

He waited for his fate to take him away, chewing hay and watching the roadway. There was a strange freedom to being a llama. No one wanted any of his time. He gazed out at the stream of people making their way up to the palace and felt strangely peaceful. One of the other llamas dozed leaning against his side and he raised a hoof to kick it and changed his mind. He had to act like a llama until he could escape.

A surprising number of people came down the road again, looking unhappy. The caretaker saw them and shook his head. "You know, fellow, there are so many who come just to glimpse the emperor, and they're turned away. He doesn't have time to see them all, wouldn't if he spent all day talking to each of them for just a short while. It's a mercy he hears as many as he does. They would wait for him. But that Yzma ordered them sent away."

Manco was angry all over again at that. He shifted and almost toppled over under the weight of the other llama, who startled awake and wandered off to find a less restless companion. More and more people came back, most of those who had walked up the hill in the morning. A few talked of staying, but most couldn't find a place and couldn't pay if they did find one. They talked about their hopes. "If I had just seen him," they said wistfully, "it would all be better now." But even if they had seen the emperor, it would have been only Pacha, who was not descended from the gods.

When Manco got out of here, he would change things. He would fire Yzma, have her banished from the empire. He would build a lodging house for all of those who made the trek to see him. Even a llama's eyes could see that it was wrong to turn the people away. It was the people who tended the fields and the livestock. It was people like the caretaker who made it possible for him to be fed and clothed in luxury. He had been wrong: he was never trapped in the palace. He could escape any time and come here to speak to the people. He was the emperor. He would command it and it would be so. The world was what he made it, or would be again.

He twitched one fuzzy ear at a fly and chewed thoughtfully at his hay, dozing until morning, when his fate would take him away.

\+ + + +

It was surprisingly easy to arrange the trip to Nina's village. Even Yzma was amenable, which made Pacha nervous. Nina brushed his worries off. They spoke quietly, heads close together as if they were lovers, as the guards lingered at a respectful distance.

"There is a very old temple there," she said. "Perhaps that is where she wants to perform her ritual, whatever it is."

"That worries me too," Pacha grumbled. "She said she wants her youth back from the sun. Who knows what that means?"

"I don't," Nina told him, "but she's old and tired. Surely she can't do too much damage. Ten years ago, perhaps, but from all accounts, her power has waned. No one has seen her cast a spell in years."

"That doesn't help," Pacha said. "I hate unknowns."

"Come now," Nina said, laying her hand on his arm and making his heart tingle. "You live in the fields with the llamas most of the time. What is there but unknowns?"

"There are signs before a storm," he said. "There are preparations to make for warding off other dangers. I am helpless here."

"You are not," she said firmly. "And I am not. And certainly there are preparations happening right now. Be easy."

"I'm only calm when you're around," he told her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "We're in this together. I'm no one's pawn." She looked so fierce as she said it he knew even the gods couldn't stand against her.

In less than a week, they were off. The whole city turned out to see them. Pacha acknowledge the crowd with a lofty nod, but Nina waved and the people loved her for it.

"How long will this take?" Pacha asked the head of the train as they set out.

"Not long," assured the leader.

"We'll probably get there just about as fast as my friend," Nina said. "Someone from my village sent a messenger up last week - he acquired an extra herd of llamas last week. Someone just left them, can you believe it? He said he would offer my parents a few. I wonder whose they were."

"I wonder," Pacha said, his brow momentarily creased with worry before he smoothed it back into an expression of regal haughtiness. "Do you think something happened?"

"He is more clever than that," Nina murmured. "Slightly. Relax, my lord. We should be there the day after tomorrow. Your train travels quickly and my village is not far. Enjoy the sights of the land."

It was a pleasant enough hike over the roads to Nina's village. The roads were steep at times, but Pacha was well accustomed to walking a great distance, and the pace was much slower than he was used to. Even with a full herd of llamas, he had often walked quickly to scout the fields and to keep himself warm. The only difficulty was the heaviness of the robes, but at least he did not have to carry a pack. The court's supplies were hauled by a number of pack llamas, and he wanted to go and look at them, but caution kept him away. It would not do to betray himself now. He had more to lose than his head now: he did not want to leave Nina.

As he walked, watching the llamas plod behind them, he wondered briefly which carried Yzma's equipment and whether he could direct those to be turned back. Nina was right: Yzma was not worth trusting, and she was not too old to be a threat. He was glad that she was walking near the head of the train. Every time he knew she was behind him, he got a creeping feeling up his spine. It was like the dark nights with the herd when he knew something was stalking his animals.

He raised his head and let the fresh air clear his mind. He was where he belonged again, even if the others didn't know it, and the woman he loved was walking by his side, looking even more beautiful as the wind lifted her hair. As if she knew his thoughts, she looked at him and smiled. His spirits lifted until he almost began to whistle. Petitioning the sun indeed. The old woman must have lost her mind. The sun gave life; it didn't take it away. He would let her have her delusions and when Manco came back, he could deal with Yzma. All of it would work out.

\+ + + +

Manco's journey to his new home was really rather pleasant. He and the other llamas wandered along the roadside cropping grass. They weren't bad company. He couldn't speak to them, but they managed to communicate. They were a friendly herd, and it was warm in their little cluster at night. The herdsman was kind and didn't rush them too much. It was about five days from the city to the village where they stopped. The herdsman left them in the pasture with the other village herds. Each day they were taken out to graze, and in the evenings they were brought back in. It was a comforting schedule. Manco had plenty of time to think while he was grazing.

Why had Yzma betrayed him? Had she really hated him for so long? What kind of power remained to her at this point? He remembered her casting a few spells in his youth: she had turned away some bad weather, and healed a few people, and hexed some of his enemies. She had never been a very kind person, but she had not seemed so cruel. But the night she had transformed him into a llama, he had heard true hatred in her voice. He was certain there was nothing she would not do. How had she found out that he was in the city? What were her plans?

In two nights, it would be the new moon. It was a night of power. It was an ill-fated night for a son of the Sun, when no light could touch the earth. He didn't know what kind of night it might be for a llama. He didn't know if he was still descended from gods. All he knew was that some kinds of grass tasted better than others and that a snarl in the night made him shiver. He had learned that his people were good and kind and brought him gifts of more than they could afford. He prayed to his godly ancestors for the strength to come through this ordeal and promised that he would be kinder to his people if he did. Even his furry subjects deserved praise. He would spare some grain from the royal stores for the llamas of the villages.

He had not been there very long when a runner came panting into the village, shouting the announcement that the emperor was coming with half the court, and they should prepare for his arrival. Manco snorted and flicked his ears at the news. Pacha? Coming here? Bringing Yzma? Perhaps he could pin her beneath his hooves. That was suspicious enough behavior that someone would ask questions. But he couldn't speak, and even if someone discovered the truth, Pacha would be killed. He would have to find another way.

Fortunately, the rest of the llamas were interested by the ruckus and by the strange llamas coming in on the train, so it was easy to sidle over to the side of the road. Manco took careful bites of grass so as not to be seen looking too intently at the faces of the people passing, but when he saw Pacha, he couldn't help braying out Pacha's name and running toward him. The guards took a few steps forward, protecting the emperor, but Pacha waved them back, looking astonished.

"We take this llama as tribute," he announced loudly. "He seems to want to give himself to his emperor. We will accept it as a favorable sign from the gods."

"Can you understand me?" Manco brayed, anxiously scraping the ground with one hoof.

Pacha nodded almost imperceptibly. He put his hand on Manco's neck. "Let us continue on. There is much to accomplish."

Manco lipped at Pacha's sleeve. "Yzma turned me into a llama. Don't trust her."

"Don't worry," Pacha murmured.

"Are you talking to that llama?" Nina demanded quietly.

"It's Manco," Pacha whispered back. "I'll explain later."

Nina reached out and patted Manco's back. "What a beautiful specimen," she said. "You know, he looks a little like you."

"Ha ha," brayed Manco. "Tell her she is not as funny as she imagines."

"Nonsense," Nina said after Pacha relayed the message. "I am as funny as I am beautiful. Tell him his form suits him better now."

"Stop bickering," Pacha said. "We must figure out what to do. We don't yet know what Yzma's plans are. Manco, we must go, but I will have you brought to wherever I am lodged and we will discuss our problems."

It was a long day. Every villager had something to show to Pacha and Nina. They beamed and teased her. She was clearly a favorite of theirs. It made Pacha's heart swell to see how much they loved her. Surely she could not marry a llama. Perhaps, if they managed to thwart Yzma, she would marry him instead - no one else knew he was not the rightful emperor. For a moment, he hoped dearly that Manco would stay a llama, and then he felt guilty. Of course he would rejoice in his emperor's restoration. Things would be as they should be.

There was not much to say in the evening. Pacha and Nina shared with Manco the few details of what they knew, leaning out the window. Manco told them about being turned into a llama but had nothing else to offer.

"What could she be up to?" Manco brayed, frustrated.

"She has a ritual planned for a few days from now," Pacha said. "She wanted Nina's blood."

"She hasn't gotten it yet," Nina said grimly. Pacha put his arm around her.

"Surely if she wants to demand something of the sun, she'll do it on the night of the new moon," Manco said. "That is when he is his weakest."

"Speak to the sun at night?" Pacha asked.

"He's right," Nina said. "The stories say that the sun is least powerful on the night of the new moon. There is no better time to demand a favor of him, although I am afraid she will ask more than that."

"What are you talking about?" Pacha asked.

"There are stories..." Nina began, and fell silent. "No, I shouldn't speak of them. If she knows them, I fear we are beyond hope."

"Wait and see," Manco said. "At worst, we'll all be farmyard animals. Or dead."

"I never liked you," Nina informed him, after Pacha translated.

Manco pretended to spit at her.

"We should rest," Pacha said finally. "It's always better to start the day with a good night's sleep under your belt."

"You are a country boy," Nina said fondly, patting his arm. "But this time, you're right. There's nothing we can do until then."

"I'm the one who starts the day," Manco grumbled.

"Yes, my llama lord," Nina said, and took her leave.

"Do you think we can stop Yzma?" Pacha asked.

Manco chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of hay. "If we can't, we really will be dead."

"At least we're all in this together," Pacha said. "That gives me hope."

"That's because you really are a country boy," Manco said. "But I'm glad someone around here is an optimist."

Pacha reached out and stroked his neck. "Good night, my lord."

\+ + + +

They muddled through the next days, waiting for something to happen. Nina stayed quiet, her face drawn. Pacha couldn't draw her out. Manco just made sarcastic comments. Nina disappeared and came back to lead Pacha to the storyteller. He was so old they could barely understand him, but he did tell them stories from the old days.

"Grandfather, do you know anything about a ritual to ask the sun for a boon?" Nina asked, offering him a cup of chicha.

"Hmm?" said the storyteller. "Yes, there is a story. A sorcerer had lost his vigor and his joy in life. He demanded a favor of the sun. He said that the sun had stolen his strength and sapped his life, and he demanded that the sun leave him in darkness until he had recovered his strength."

"When was the ritual performed, Grandfather?" Pacha asked.

"On the night of the new moon, when the sun was at his weakest," the storyteller said. "But you should know all about that, son of the Sun. Your guards know the story or at least they understand the power of the darkness. Today the throne is weakest and they must watch you with special care, even if they are not sure why."

"What did the ritual involve?" Nina asked.

"Oh, the details are lost to the winds," the storyteller said. "He was thwarted, and the ritual was not recorded for fear that someone would attempt it again. But it is old history, my children. It is a story no one knows."

"I fear that someone knows it," Nina said. "Can you truly tell us nothing else?"

"Only that he was thwarted, and that the power of the sun will come to the aid of him who calls it down, though he has to haul it from the heavens to serve him."

"Thank you, grandfather," Nina said, and made a gesture of reverence. "We must hurry," she said to Pacha as they left the storyteller's house, "or you will miss the chance to ask my father and the curaca for my hand."

"I would not miss that for the world," Pacha told her. "Even if Yzma will be there."

"All of your advisors will be there," Nina reminded him. "Surely she will wait."

"I hope so," Pacha said. "It troubles me."

"For now, all is well," Nina said. "Be of good cheer." She squeezed his hand.

\+ + + +

The entire village turned out for the ceremony, wanting to see the emperor and the light of their village. Pacha formally asked for her hand and held up the shoe that he - or Manco, he thought sadly - would present to Nina at their wedding. A few of the advisors gave little speeches about how strong their union would be and how the emperor's betrothed was a prize above gold or jewels. Somewhere, a llama snorted. Pacha knew it sounded familiar. Yzma hobbled her way to the front of the crowd and presented Pacha with an amulet.

"In honor of this event, may you be blessed by the gods," she said in an oily voice, slipping the token over his head. It was an obsidian disc carved into the shape of the sun, and so cold it burned his flesh. Pacha kept silent with an effort at the pain of it, which lasted several moments before subsiding.

"We thank you for your kind words on the occasion of this union," he said.

"No," Yzma said. "It is I who must thank you for giving us this opportunity to rejoice." She bowed, glaring at him, and melted back into the crowd.

The rest of the day was spent in feasting. Pacha had no taste for the food or for the chicha. He made a pretense of eating. He could see that Nina was eating no more than he was.

"Eat," he told her. "You may need your strength."

"It's your strength she wanted to take," she said, and took his hand. "For what it's worth, my lord, I would have been glad to marry you."

He clasped her hand in both of his. "I hoped so. Well, we belong to each other until the sun sets."

"It will be a story for the ages," she said, smiling.

The hours slipped away too quickly. All too soon it was dusk, and Yzma was beckoning from the shadows.

Pacha rose. "I must take my leave for a while," he told the assembly. "I have business of the empire to attend to. But I will return!" Nina followed him out, already the dutiful wife.

"Good," Yzma said, rubbing her hands together. She indicated a small stone altar. "Haul that for me."

There was the sound of thundering hooves and then Manco appeared, eyes rolling.

"Ah, excellent," Yzma said. "My experiment. Feel free to join us, my lord. You may wish to witness this." She started up the stairs toward the temple.

"I don't like this," Nina whispered.

"I gave my word," Pacha said.

"You gave it to me as well," she said.

"I gave his word to you," he told her, indicating Manco. "I'm just a placeholder. I might as well serve a purpose." Pacha lifted the altar and carried it up the hill. Nina and Manco trailed after him. It was heavy for being so small. Pacha's breathing was labored before he reached the top. Yzma, surprisingly agile, was waiting for them. She was barely visible: the night was extremely dark, though the stars were bright.

"Set it down there," she said. "Now, girl, I need that blood you promised."

"I promised nothing," Nina said. "But for the love I bear him, I will give you the blood." She held out her hand as Yzma drew a short obsidian knife. She caught up Nina's smooth hand in her wrinkled one and pricked Nina's finger, squeezing the three drops of blood onto the altar. From her cloak, Yzma drew a small vial and added three more drops of blood.

"From your emperor," she cackled, "when he was not careful in cutting his meat." Manco laid his ears back and glared at her.

Yzma raised her hands above her head and cried some incomprehensible words. Pacha gasped and fell to his knees - the amulet on his chest burned his skin and pulled the lifeforce from his bones, weakening him. Yzma screamed with glee.

"I told you I needed your strength, shepherd boy. Now watch your death approach. I call Supai! Heed me and cover this land with darkest night!"

A silence fell over the land. Even the birds were quiet. Pacha thought his ears were roaring with the lack of noise and weakness in his limbs.

From far out in the jungle, a wave of darkness rose. It grew as if the sea were drawing itself up to fling itself out and drown the land. Over the mountains it crashed, utter blackness snuffing any lights. Even the stars dimmed.

"Supai, to me!" Yzma cried. "In the darkness I will always be young! I give you the blood of the sun to feed you. I give you the land to bind you. I give you my soul to keep you!"

"Do something!" Manco brayed.

With an effort, Pacha ripped off the amulet and flung it into the dark. Nina ran to him and held him in her arms, soothing him.

"Too late!" Yzma crowed. "He comes!"

"Do something!" Manco said again, stomping his hoof. "I see the true value of my empire is my people! I will not lose them!"

"Our only hope is to call the sun to us and pull it from the heavens," Pacha gasped. "That was all the storyteller knew."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Manco brayed. "We don't have anything to pull it _with_!"

"I know!" Nina said, and fumbled in her pouch for her spindle. "Manco, Pacha, call the sun! Do it together!"

"What are you doing?" Manco asked.

"Just call!" she commanded, and yanked at Manco's fur.

"Ouch!" he said, and glared at her. "Sun! I call you! By my divine right as a son of Inti, I call you!"

"In my hour of need, I call you!" Pacha shouted.

Nina was twisting the tuft of fur into yarn, her fingers moving almost too fast for Pacha to see. As he looked at her, the end of the yarn flung itself off the spindle and into his hands. In no time at all, he had a coil of fine rope in his hands. Manco was still bellowing for the aid of the sun. Pacha spotted a spark of light in the sky. The sun! It came! But it came as cautiously and unhappily as a stray from the herd. Well, at least he knew what to do with that. As fast as he could, ignoring Yzma's shrieks as the wave of darkness that was Supai rolled closer, Pacha shaped the yarn into a lasso. He spun it over his head, waiting for the right moment, holding his breath as the sun bobbed closer, reluctant but heeding their call. Already his throat was hoarse, but he kept shouting, his voice in chorus with Manco's brays.

"Now!" Nina said, her hands still flying as she spun the hair from Manco's coat.

Pacha flung the lasso, watching it soar through the sky like a shooting star, its path straight and true towards the sun. At the last moment the sun bobbed and it looked as if the lasso would miss, but it settled snug over the sun and the rope drew taut.

Nina cheered and Manco danced on his hooves as Pacha threw his weight against the rope, hauling the sun towards them. Nina dropped the spindle in her pouch and threw her arms around Pacha's waist, adding her weight to his.

The sun dropped toward them, but Yzma, in her glory, did not see. She had her arms flung wide, embracing the darkness, as the sun plunged through the sky. Manco grabbed the back of Nina's tunic in his teeth and held them there, his hooves braced wide. The sun fell lower and lower, held by the magical rope. Pacha's hands grew more and more slippery, but he held on, pulling the sun closer one hand-width at a time. It was hot, blazing hot, and the light burned his eyes, but still he kept pulling, his feet scrambling for purchase and always aware of Nina's face tucked against his back. He thought they would burn up, but he closed his eyes and held on. Finally, when he thought his arms would give out, he gave one more pull and the sun touched the earth.

There was an explosion of heat and light. Yzma screamed, a terrible sound. Pacha let go of the rope and threw his aching arms around Nina and around Manco's neck, trying to shelter them with his body. The light washed across the land, sweeping the darkness before it, the birds and the monkeys and the jaguars and the llamas raising their voices in a cacophony of joy. Pacha opened his eyes and saw everything outlined in blazing color, a glorious sight.

Slowly the light faded. An ember rose back up into the sky, floating like a feather on the wind, rising among the stars. There was nothing left of Yzma. The altar was scorched and half-melted. But Nina's robes bore only the slightest of singe marks, and Manco and Pacha's hair was crisp at the very ends. They straighted and looked at each other, and all three gasped in surprise. Manco was human again, a few wisps of hay in his hair.

Manco looked at his hands. "I missed these."

Nina passed him her cloak. "You might miss this, too."

"I didn't really," Manco said.

"What happens now?" Pacha asked.

"I'm going to make amends," Manco said, putting his hand on Pacha's shoulder. "I'm taking back the throne, but as far as I'm concerned, Nina is betrothed to you. It was the two of you who went through the ceremony. And until I find a love like that in my life, I am naming you my heir. You'll come back to the palace and live with me. I needed a new advisor anyway, and you know the ways of the land."

"You can't give me away," Nina protested, and slipped her arm through Pacha's. "But that's what I'd choose anyway, so I'll spare you this time, my lord."

"I have been rude," Manco said. "I have been haughty. I need your help to set things right and help our people prosper. Will you help me?"

"I will," Pacha promised, putting his hand on Manco's shoulder, so that they were mirror images of each other.

And so they led the empire to a time of prosperity and joy that had not been known before. All of the storytellers wished to learn the story of the evil Yzma and her scheme to darken the earth for the sake of her vanity. The wedding of Pacha and Nina was a glorious affair. Manco became known for his wise leadership instead of his pride. Pacha's practical hand guided the distribution of grain and food to villages which suffered from drought or scarcity. Nina's sharp tongue kept them both in check. And in time, Manco did find happiness in his life, and he lives on in the stories along with his deeds. And that it how it was, in that time in the history of the people.


End file.
